


That Feel When Your Alchemist Childhood Friend Meets, Punches, And/Or Kills Terrifying Abominations Of Nature

by melimarron



Series: Knowledge, Bravery, Power [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Skyward - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Fullmetal Alchemist fusion, Gen, Gran Gran is an alchemist, Jorgen is an alchemist, M-Bot is human, Not Beta Read, Rig is NOT an alchemist, Spensa is an alchemist, Zeen is an alchemist, and I named him Mark, do not expect very many fma characters in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melimarron/pseuds/melimarron
Summary: Rodge McCaffery had lived a normal life in Resembool until a suit of armor came running into his childhood friend’s house, carrying said childhood friend, who was currently bleeding out.And then his life (or, to be more accurate, Spensa’s life) got a whole lot more complicated.A Fullmetal Alchemist AU.
Relationships: Spensa Nightshade | Spin/Jorgen Weight | Jerkface, Spensa Nightshade|Spin & M-Bot (Skyward), Spensa Nightshade|Spin & Rodge McCaffrey|Rigmarole
Series: Knowledge, Bravery, Power [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822552
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	That Feel When Your Alchemist Childhood Friend Meets, Punches, And/Or Kills Terrifying Abominations Of Nature

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t be the only one who read Skyward and thought about this.
> 
> Also, for the purposes of this fic, M-Bot is both human and related to Spensa. Just wanted to get that out of the way.
> 
> I haven't read Skyward or Starsight in a while, so if you think Rig or Spensa are out of character, please let me know! I might expand this into a series, and I don't want bad characterization to get in the way of that.

Rodge McCaffery would never forget the day his best friend, Spensa, and her adopted brother, Mark, tried to perform human transmutation.

It had been absolutely, one hundred percent, mind-meltingly terrifying, and Rodge hadn’t even known about the whole thing until it was all over. He hadn’t known Spensa was going to try to resurrect her father, hadn’t known that Mark was going along with it, hadn’t known that it _hadn’t worked_ until a giant statue had come running into the kitchen, speaking with Mark’s voice, holding Spensa, who looked smaller and more bloody than Rodge remembered.

He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep it together long enough to scream for Spensa’s mother and grandmother and help them to clean and bandage Spensa’s stubs. There had been an arm and a leg there, just hours ago. Now…

Now Spensa only had one arm and one leg and Mark didn’t even have that- apparently, he’d somehow _lost his body_ in the process of resurrecting Zeen Nightshade, and for all that the two of them had lost, they didn’t even have a resurrected father to show for it.

Alchemists were _terrifying_. What kind of science experiment cuts off limbs and dissolves bodies? A bad one, in Rodge’s opinion.

And then, only days after Mark had _lost his body_ and Spensa had ended up down two limbs, the military came knocking, most likely to arrest Spensa and Mark for committing the ultimate taboo. And instead of arresting them, Spensa had ended up recruited to the military at the ripe old age of eleven.

This was, without a doubt, one of the worst weeks of Rodge’s life.

* * *

“You know,” he said, determinedly not looking at Spensa as he tinkered with what would become her automail arm, “you could have listened to your teacher when she told you _not_ to try to resurrect the dead.”

Spensa scoffed. “You think?” Rodge could see her moving her left/only arm around out of the corner of his eye. “I’m figuring that one out for myself.”

“You _should_ have listened to Gran-Gran. She’s an alchemist.”

“I scudding _know_ that, dummy, I live with her, too. M-Bot’s lost his _body_ , Rig. There’s bigger things to worry about than us committing the taboo.”

Rodge looked up from Spensa’s new arm to look at Spensa herself. “M-Bot,” he repeated. “Are you calling Mark _M-Bot_ now?”

Spensa shrugged with her one arm. “He wanted me to. I’ll stop as soon as we get our real bodies back.”

“You don’t think that’s dehumanizing at all?”

“He asked me to,” Spensa said. “Trust me, it wasn’t my idea.”

Rodge sighed and turned back to Spensa’s arm. “Fine, whatever.”

“Hey, you just wait!” Spensa said. “I’m going to get his body back, and then we can call him Mark to our hearts’ content!”

“Yeah, and your plan to do that is to become a dog of the military,” Rodge bit out.

“Since when are you so against the military? If I pass the tests- and I _will_ \- I’ll get research funding to look for a way to get M-Bot’s body back. I’ll have access to all the best alchemy research. Someone’s got to have a solution.”

Rodge pursed his lips. “I don’t care about the military or you joining it,” he lied. “I’m just remembering Ishval.”

He knew that Spensa would freeze at the mention of Ishval. Either that, or she’d start yelling. “Hey! I’ll prove myself, and nobody will dare to even _think_ about my dad!”

“You _know_ everyone will know what your father did,” Rodge said. Then, so that Spensa wouldn’t blow up at him, he added, “ _Allegedly_.” 

When Spensa, Mark, and Rodge had been younger, Spensa’s father, Zeen Nightshade, had been an alchemist in the Amestrian army. He’d been a good one, too- until the day he had famously turned around in the face of an incoming army and ran. He’d ended up being shot in the back by an enemy soldier and immortalized in history as “The Cowardly Alchemist”.

“I can take it,” Spensa said, fire raging in her eyes. “I’m not a coward, and _neither was my father_.”

Spensa was, unlike literally everyone else who heard the story of The Cowardly Alchemist, completely convinced that the story had been fabricated, somehow. Her reasons for this varied, but the most important one was that she had worshipped her father as a kid, and found it inconceivable that her hero could be a coward.

“Sure. But what if there’s another war?”

“I’m not going to throw myself into a war before getting M-Bot’s body back,” Spensa snapped. “I’m not going to leave him as a suit of armor forever.”

“Even if you get labeled a coward for it?”

Spensa tensed up at that. “I. Am _not_. A _coward_.”

“Yeah? What if you have to fight in a battle or something, and you know that if you go, you’ll die, and if you stay, everyone will call you a coward? What if you’re on the verge of a breakthrough and you’re about to get Mark’s body back, and your commanding officer orders you to fight?”

“Then I’ll finish getting M-Bot’s body back later,” Spensa said. “Or I’ll leave my notes so that Gran Gran can finish the job.”

“What if she can’t? What if you die, because you’re so obsessed with not being a coward, and Mark- _M-Bot’s_ stuck in a suit of armor forever?” Rodge looked up from Spensa’s arm to look her in the eyes. “What then?”

Spensa looked lost. She swallowed. “I need to join the military, Rig,” she said. “It’s the only way to get access to the best libraries. I’ll be able to look through the research of _every_ recorded alchemist in _history_. I can’t pass that up. I’ll have money and resources that I can’t get any other way.”

“And the fact that you can clear your dad’s name while you’re at it, or at least make sure you’re not associated with him anymore, has nothing to do with it.”

“It doesn’t. I’m proud of him.”

Rodge scoffed. “Yeah. That’s why you never tell anyone your last name.”

Spensa growled at him. “My father was _not_ a coward. He was shot in the back. The _real_ coward was the one who shot him.”

“Yeah, fine,” Rodge said. When Spensa got angry, there was no way to stop her. And a surefire way to make her angry was to mention her father. “You’re joining the military out of the pureness of your heart. You don’t care about how everyone’s going to look down on you before you have a chance to prove yourself because you’re a kid, someone who committed the taboo, _and_ the daughter of Zeen Nightshade.” Put like that, Spensa’s chances of getting into the military actually seemed slim. 

“I’m joining the military because I need to help M-Bot!” Spensa shouted. She stood- or tried to. She wasn’t used to balancing on one leg yet, and her anger probably made it even harder. She toppled out of the wheelchair.

“Are you-”

“Get away from me,” Spensa spat, lifting herself up with one arm. “How can you not see that this is my only option? My only way to get the money and resources that I would have had if Dad hadn’t died? Stars, Rig, have I _ever_ shown _any_ interest in the military before?”

“There are other ways. You don’t _have_ to join-”

“I don’t have a scudding _choice_ , though!” Spensa snapped. “Yeah, I might get dragged into a war. I might die. I might not be able to find a solution. But if it’s the only way I can even get a _chance_ to figure this out, then I have to take it. If I stay here, I won’t be able to get M-Bot’s body back. If I go, then there’s a chance, even if it’s small. I have to take it. I don’t need your permission.”

She’d managed to haul herself up until she was standing, balanced on one foot and glaring at Rodge.

Rodge clenched his fists. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly, and stood. “Your arm’s done. When we put it on you, try not to break it right away.”

Spensa scoffed. “I won’t break it.” She hopped over and picked the arm up. She brought it back to her chair, sat down, and twisted one of the screws idly.

It popped out.

“Oh, come on. I didn’t even do anything!”

Rodge sighed, took the arm back, and turned away, leaving Spensa in her wheelchair, scowling at the arm like it had personally offended her.

If she had to go, the least he could do was make sure her limbs wouldn’t break down on her halfway through a spar.

* * *

Rodge got the first call from Spensa two days after she and M-Bot had left town.

“I got in,” Spensa said as soon as he picked up, not even bothering with a _hello_.

“Hi, Spensa,” Rodge said. “Nice to hear from you. How’s M-Bot?”

“I _got in_ , Rig!” Spensa repeated. “I’m a State Alchemist! I’m going to get my funding!”

Rodge blinked. “Great,” he said. “That’s really great, Spensa, I’m proud of you.” He knew that, despite his words, he didn’t sound excited at all. But if Spensa noted that he was speaking in a monotone, she didn’t say anything about it.

“You just wait,” Spensa said, her voice sounding more carefree and determined than it had been in a year. “This time next year, M-Bot and I will be coming home with his body completely intact.”

“You’d better,” Rodge said. “Make sure you get your own body back while you’re at it. How great of an alchemist can you be with only one arm and one leg?”

“Hey!” Spensa squawked. “I just became the youngest State Alchemist of all time! You’re my best friend! Celebrate with me!”

“How? You’re in the city.”

“I don’t know, just be enthusiastic. I-” She cut herself off. “Hang on.”

There was silence for a moment, filled only with the sound of Spensa’s breathing as she listened to orders that Rodge could just barely hear.

Then she spoke again. “Hey, Rig, I gotta go. Have to meet my CO. I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Good luck, Spin.”

“See you, Rig.”

Rig put the phone down and put his head in his hands. Spensa wasn’t the best at keeping other people in the loop- as best evidenced by her little _whoops my brother turned himself into a suit of armor and I lost two limbs when we were trying to commit alchemy’s greatest taboo_ stunt.

He hoped that she would keep him in the loop this time, but honestly, that seemed like a long shot.

* * *

The deadline Spensa had imposed on herself to get M-Bot’s body back- that was, two years after he’d lost it, since she’d needed a year to get used to automail- passed.

She’d lamented about it to Rodge on the phone, whenever she remembered to call and update him on their status. Then she’d sworn that M-Bot would have his body back in a year- or, by the time he was thirteen and Spensa and Rodge were fourteen.

That deadline seemed like it would be passed, too, and a new one would probably be made in its place.

As the weeks wore on, Rodge could feel fear settling into his chest. Spensa would never find a way to get M-Bot’s body back, but she wouldn’t leave the military- and it’s sweet, sweet _research funding_ \- until she got his body back.

He just hoped that she’d get the nonsense about cowardice out of her head by the time she gave up on getting M-Bot his body back. But knowing Spensa, she’d give up on M-Bot around the same time she accepted that her father really was The Cowardly Alchemist.

Meaning _never_.

* * *

Spensa called him one night when they were thirteen, furious. Apparently, she had a new commanding officer, and he was exactly eight months older than she was. Which wasn’t a problem.

What _was_ a problem was that he had been in the military for a year, having passed the tests on the same day of Spensa, and yet he was already a colonel because a friend of his had a politically powerful father.

(And oh, boy, did Rodge regret asking her who this politically powerful father was, because it turned out the answer was _King Bradley_ , the Fuhrer.)

To make matters worse, her new commanding officer was almost as good at alchemy as she was, and knew it. And Jorgen Weight hadn’t gotten divine knowledge about alchemy shoved into his head- he was just _good_ at alchemy, no dubiously sane divine intervention needed.

“Maybe he has more experience?”

“Jerkface is only like a _year_ older than me,” Spensa fumed. “I mean, yeah, he’s been practicing alchemy for, like, _ever_ , but it’s _so unfair_. I’m way better at it than him! Get this, Rig: he still needs a _circle_!”

“Look,” Rodge said, trying to be as patient as possible. “Jorgen is a normal alchemist. He didn’t commit the taboo and get God to lecture him on the true nature of alchemy. There is _no possible way_ that he could do alchemy without a circle.” He’s not touching the rest of her words with a ten foot pole if he can help it.

“Whatever! It’s still stupid! Who the hell would give a promotion to a fourteen year old? Who would make a fourteen year old a _colonel_? He’s freakishly young!”

_Says the girl who was made a major at twelve_. “He _is_ a prodigy. No one else knows the array to make fire.”

“I could figure it out, if I wanted to,” Spensa said sulkily. “I’ve already decoded his chocolate chip cookie recipe. Flame alchemy would be a cinch, if I put my mind to it. I bet I could figure it out in an afternoon.”

“He practically _invented_ flame alchemy.”

“ _Whatever_. What did he do to _deserve_ it, though? He’s totally normal, and now he gets to boss me around! He _loves_ it, I can tell! I can see it in his eyes.”

“He _does_ have connections to the higher-ups in the country,” Rodge said.

“Like what?!”

“Spensa, you told me his friend’s dad is the _Fuhrer_. You don’t get higher than that.”

He just knew that Spensa was scowling. “Whatever,” she said again. “Why don’t _I_ get promoted, anyway?”

“Because you have no regard for the chain of command and you hate it when people order you around?”

“Shut up, Rig.” There was a pause, and then Spensa grudgingly said, “M-Bot says that whatever it was you just said, he agrees with you.”

“Vindication,” Rig said.

“I’m gonna tell him you said his armor was ugly.”

“What? No, that won’t work. I helped your dad pick out that suit of armor.”

“Bull. Those spikes have six year old me written all over them.”

“ _Six_ year old you? You mean you’ve finally stopped decorating everything with spikes, bones, and awful flame decals?”

The conversation quickly devolved into childish insults, and Rodge almost managed to put the damage the military could do out of his mind.

* * *

More years passed. More annual promises were broken. Rodge and Spensa were fifteen, and Spensa had only come home twice since she’d left- both solely to fix her automail. M-Bot was fourteen, and he was still stuck in a suit of armor.

Somehow, Spensa and M-Bot’s determination hadn’t flagged at all in the four years since their botched resurrection ritual. At least, Spensa always _seemed_ confident and determined whenever she called.

But right now, she was confident and determined about the wrong thing.

How long could Spensa go on about all the flaws of _one person_?

Rodge sighed as he tuned back into the conversation. Spensa was still ranting.

“-And then Colonel Jerkface was like, “rargh, I am invincible”, so I transmuted the ceiling tiles above his head into water and I was like, “who’s invincible now, you limp sack of skin and bones, when I’m through with my experiments, you’ll be nothing but a speck of dust before my awesome power,” and then he got mad and anyway, now I have time off.”

In the distance, Rodge could hear M-Bot yell, “You left early!”

“M-Bot says that the only reason I’m still in the military is because I’m an alchemist,” Spensa continued, “but he _doesn’t know what he’s saying_!” The last few words were clearly in a raised voice and directed towards M-Bot.

Rodge sighed. She’d been talking about Colonel Jorgen Weight for the past five minutes, without so much as an update on her progress, or the lack thereof. Her mother and grandmother wouldn’t be happy, considering that using Rodge as the messenger seemed to be Spensa’s main form of communication with them. “You have a crush on Colonel Weight, don’t you?”

On the other end of the line, Spensa swore. “No, no, no, I don’t, Rig. What the hell gave you that idea? He’s a jerk! I hate him! He sucks!”

“You haven’t shut up about him for the past five minutes.” _At least she’s finally stopped talking about how much he pisses her off and why_.

“Yeah, because he’s an over privileged _jerk_!”

“Who nicknames a jerk?”

“I call him _Jerkface_. Because his face is the face of a _jerk_. That’s not exactly an endearing nickname.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you pay attention to his face?”

Spensa hissed. Like, she genuinely hissed. Rodge hadn’t thought that normal human beings did things like that, but then again, Spensa wasn’t exactly normal. “He’s just _annoying_ ,” she said. “I hate him. I would laugh on his grave, and I have told him that before to his face.”

Rodge grinned. _That last comment is probably true. She’s so easy to wind up_. “Sure…”

“Shut your face, Rodge. You’re smiling, aren’t you? I can tell. Stop smiling.”

“I can’t help it!”

“Shut up, Rig. Oh- hey, something happened, figured I should let you know. We figured it out. We know how to get M-Bot’s body back. But-”

“ _What_? Wait, what? Spensa, seriously?” Rodge could feel a smile of relief and surprise settling over his features. “How? Why didn’t you say that _before_? When are you doing the ritual?”

Spensa was quiet for a second, and then she said, “Never.”

Rodge felt his smile vanish. “What do you mean?”

“We found out how to make a Philosopher’s Stone,” Spensa said. “And one of the ingredients is human lives.”

Rodge blinked. His smile faded. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Spensa said, sounding- impossibly- defeated. “We’re back to square one.”

“That’s awful, Spin.”

“We’re _worse_ than back to square one,” Spensa said with a bitter laugh. “We don’t even have any leads, and now there’s Scar to worry about-”

“Who?”

Dead silence. “...Nothing,” Spensa said.

“You suck at lying,” Rodge informed her.

“Well, I can’t tell you, because it’s supposed to be classified, and Colonel Jerkface will literally broil me alive if he finds out I’ve been telling you classified state secrets.”

“How do you even _know_ classified state secrets?”

“Because I’m, like, one of the most important people in the army right now! Not many alchemists stay in the military! _And_ I’m the only alchemist in my unit who’s not completely useless in the rain.”

Rodge was doubtful. “Okay, if you say so.”

“You haven’t seen Jerkface try to fight in the rain. He transmutes _fire_. He’s useless, and he forgets that _every single time_.” The glee in Spensa’s voice is unmistakable. “It’s _so funny_.”

“If you say so. Who’s Scar?”

“Sorry, Rig, you’re breaking up- can’t hear- gonna hang up.”

_Click_.

Rodge rolled his eyes and put the phone back. If she wouldn’t tell him who Scar was, he’d just have to find out himself.

...Just as soon as he got the chance to try out his new ideas for cold-weather automail.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
